The Sugar Sweet Candy Pink Locks
by HoneyBadgerOverlord
Summary: In which a pastel-loving Oliver has to deal with unnecessary comments about the nature of their hair. It wasn't hurting anybody. It wasn't against the dress code of the school. It was simply… pink. Candy floss pink to be exact. 2p! Hetalia in a Human AU.
Oliver Kirkland simply didn't understand what the issue was. It wasn't hurting anybody. It wasn't against the dress code of the school. It was simply… pink.

Candy floss pink to be exact.

Weeks ago they were browsing the web for the perfect accessories to complete their adorably creepy look as a pastel goth. In all the pictures that they saw the people sported brightly colored hair. From lavender to mint green, it was all perfectly delightful. Oliver was eager to dye their hair as well, but even when they begged their parents on their knees the answer was 'no'. It wasn't until a few days later that Oliver realized they didn't have to dye their hair. They could simply wear a wig.

Last evening the package had arrived. When Oliver opened the parcel and revealed to their parents what they had purchased they didn't protest, only shook their heads at the strangeness of who they still thought of as their daughter. She was fifteen. If she wanted to go out with fluffy, pastel pink hair that was her business.

Oliver thought that the wig looked dashing. It brought out the freckles scattered across their cheeks and accented their lovely blue eyes. To school they decided to wear a lavender top, their favorite black lace skirt and some flats with stockings. They were feeling more feminine that day. A little skull hand hairclip was used to hold some of the pink locks out of their face. Oliver felt quite pleased with their appearance and skipped into the school with an air of confidence they had never felt before.

That confidence hardly lasted five minutes.

Snickers, whispers, pointing and stares barraged them in an attack from all sides.

"What the hell did she do to her hair?"

"Is that a wig or did she really cut and dye it like that?"

"Hah! She looks like a clown!"

"Ugh, she's trying too hard to be different."

Did no one think that Oliver could hear them? Did no one care if Oliver did?

They held their head down, scurrying between groups of people to get to their locker and gather materials for the first class.

"I like your wig Olivia!" A boy called as he walked by. Perhaps he was being sincere but to Oliver his words sounded harsh, mocking. Every bout of sudden laughter seemed to be directed at them. Every cruel smirk was in their direction. They had become a fresh target for the razor-sharp judgement of their ruthless peers.

"Stop looking like that," a raspy voice huffed next to Oliver. They jumped slightly but turned to see that it was only their friend, Francois.

"Like what…?"

"Like someone just ate your last cupcake. Frowning isn't attractive." That was ironic coming from the Frenchman who always scowled but they didn't call it out.

"People keep laughing at me," they sighed as they took out a pile of books and folders. "I've become a joke."

Francois shrugged. "It's your fault. You wore the wig to school."

"So that gives everyone the right to jeer and make fun of me?" They slammed the locker shut.

"Ignore the filthy peasants. You are above them."

"Am I really?" They glanced over to a gaggle of popular people nearby who talked and jostled each other like a herd of wild animals.

"Mon dieu, yes!" He rolled his dark circled eyes. "If the world was filled with people like you I wouldn't be such a miserable person."

The warning bell rang causing the start of an exodus from the hallways.

"Do not let the dirty pigs of this school affect you. I think that your hair is fine. It looks like that tooth-rotting dessert you made me try that time."

They gave a sheepish smile at the memory. "Candy floss?"

"Yes, that. Now get yourself to class. You wouldn't survive a minute in detention if you got it."

They turned to leave when Francois suddenly added, "And fix your binder. It's slipping."

Oliver found themselves feeling better as they bustled down the hall, tugging at the garment under their shirt with one hand and holding books in the opposite arm. At least one person hadn't been a total meanie that morning.

If only everyone in the world could act as sweet as the taste of candy floss.

 **It is actually quite unfortunate that I wrote this little piece because it is based on what has happened most recently to me. Being laughed at and talked about is rarely ever a fun time. Even if you don't care what people think it can still hurt. I personally believe that the key is to not let them win. Don't take the piercings out. Put more gel on the mohawk. Wear the shirt with the unicorn on it. I'm going to keep wearing my pink wig because damnit, I like pastel pink! Whoever has a problem about it can just keep quiet.**

 **A special shout out to my pal Chris and his posh, fabulous vocabulary.**

 **Reviews fuel my happy fire and let me know you care.**


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